


The Woman Who Lives For Love

by whoneedsapublisher



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoneedsapublisher/pseuds/whoneedsapublisher
Summary: Kiyohime, the self proclaimed woman who lives for love, has spent her time as a heroic spirit in the endless pursuit of Anchin. But when she is summoned by a new Master, she finds herself with some unexpected feelings.





	The Woman Who Lives For Love

Ahh, Anchin-sama, how I love you. Even though you betrayed me, still I wish for you. If you had only but been honest with me. If you had only kept your promise.

Still, you did not. And still I pray for my Master to be you whenever I am summoned. Surely, one such as you must have been reborn? You were not famous enough to leave the wheel of life as I. And surely, the sin of your betrayal would not doom you to never take human form again? Surely you must have lived out your punishment by now. And would not fate let me see you again?

Certainly though, this time I was not summoned by you. Ahh, there is no doubt that you are not my Master Nico. Such a dark fate. Perhaps it is my punishment that keeps us apart, not yours. Perhaps our separation is your reward.

But I must admit, Anchin-sama… I do not miss you so much at the moment. Truly, I love you, but… I am not so lonely as usual without you.

My Master is not very honest, it must be said. She lies to herself, she hides and blusters and deceives those around her with her smile, with her stance, with her feigned arrogance. She is not truly a liar, however. She merely lets people tell themselves lies about her and never shows them the truth. And she would not betray me, of that I am certain. She has never broken a promise with me, even though I am her Servant and she is my Master.

She is so beautiful, Anchin-sama. Sometimes, I almost resent her. I wonder if you would have loved her. I wonder if you would have betrayed her. Sometimes I imagine you wouldn’t, and am angry and jealous, petty as I am. Other times I imagine you would, and I feel the fire burn in my belly again, and I yearn to burn you for daring to hurt someone so kind and so good.

I think sometimes she notices my thoughts. Sometimes, when I feel so full of pain and anger that I fear I will transform, I feel her soft fingers in my hair, and she strokes my head silently until I calm, and never says anything about it. I think it is her way of respecting me, that she does not ask me why, does not mention what she does. I wonder if you would have done such a thing, if you had accepted me. I fear that you would not have, that you would have fled as soon as you sensed my rage gather. I fear that you would always challenge me, demand an explanation.

My Master was famous, once. One is never truly no longer famous, if one ever had fame, but the spotlight moves, and your corner of the stage grows dark, and people know your name but no longer know what you’re doing. I am unsure if she is happy with that. She has not shared her wish with me. I wonder, if we win this war, will she wish to be famous? Does she miss crowded venues and cheering crowds? Or is she happy to have made her mark, and content now to enjoy the peace that comes of obscurity, the freedom to live a life that is not watched by a thousand ungrateful judging eyes?

I hope it is the second. I do not want thousands of eyes on her. I want her for myself, to leave the world ignorant of her beauty and her charm. I want them only to look at her as a young woman, to stare longingly at her past as her present remains mine alone. I am pleased that they foolishly pine for the blossom of the past as I enjoy the heady scent of her full bloom.

Ahh, it is terrible of me, is it not? They say that lovers should be proud and display the beauty of their darling for all to see, happy to show the world how wonderful they are, but I am not like that. I fear that for every person who admires her, my own admiration loses a fraction of its value. I fear that for every beautiful smile she wears for another, there is one less for me. I am truly greedy, Anchin-sama. Perhaps that is what makes me wicked.

There is one thing I can selfishly hold for myself, however. She is a good enough magus to transfer magical energy to me easily, even though I am a Berserker and so drain more than many with less control of the volume. Yet, even still, she performs acts with me that many would only do with a Servant if they needed them for mana transfer.

Oh, Anchin-sama, perhaps it is crude to speak of this to another who holds a place in my heart. For once, perhaps I am glad that my voice does not reach you, for it means that this joy and this story will remain mine alone. If my voice cannot reach you, you cannot hear me speak of the time me and my Master first made love.

Even looking back, I cannot say what exactly sparked it. We had touched before, caresses and embraces that spoke of a feeling deeper than the bond of those tied together in Holy Grail War. But one day, after we slew Assassin, euphoric and worn in the aftermath of our victory, she turned to me as we entered her home and captured my lips.

She is a perfect height for me, Anchin-sama. You towered over me, given my slight build, but she meets my eye when she stands normally, and kissing is as simple as moving closer. And once that invisible line was crossed, and our lips had met, we flew ahead with no regard for what we approached.

Our bodies intertwined as we kissed passionately, her tongue so talented in song darting nimbly between my lips as my own forked one sought its embrace. I had expected fear or revulsion when she discovered my tongue was not as a normal human, but she was drawn to it instead, and I saw in her eyes a passion for me that made my heart skip. Ahh, it was what I always wished would be in your eyes, and yet in that moment I had no thoughts of you at all, Anchin-sama. My only thoughts were of my Master, and of my desire to feed the flames I saw in her gaze, so different from the cleansing fire I call upon. No colder, and yet coming from a love that heals, not one that destroys. I wish that I could have had such a love for you. Ahh, but you would have betrayed me anyway. Perhaps it’s better I did not.

It was a longer time than you might expect before either of us pulled back. Her lungs are well trained, Anchin-sama, and her breath held for much longer than a normal person’s. I have no doubt that you could never have given me so long a kiss even if you had desired to.

Once her breath returned, she spoke to me of her desires. Her honesty was wonderful, Anchin-sama, and filled my heart with love as she poured out her passion for me. She spoke of acts so lewd that they brought a flush to both of our faces, but she never wavered, never hesitated, consumed so by her feelings that she couldn’t hold it in. She spoke of her lusts for my body, of what she wanted to touch, what she wanted to do to me, what she wanted me to do to her. My body burned for her as her words seeped into my flesh and left behind an unbearable heat.

Ahh, it would lose its magic to repeat all of her words, but I will at least say the ones that struck me hardest.

“Fuck, Kiyohime, your tongue is so hot.” she said, her voice heavy with lust. “I want it in me. I want to feel it deep inside my pussy. I want you to lick me until I scream, and then I want you to lick me more and more, until I can’t even scream any more, until I can only writhe and struggle, and then even more, until I cum so hard that I can’t move.”

That was what led me to finally respond, inviting her to sate herself fully with my wanting flesh, promising to meet her every need and fulfil her every fantasy. Oh, I was so filled with passion for her that I forgot everything else. When she finally touched me, my body could barely stand it, even as she only lightly brushed my sides as she kissed my neck, making me feel as if I would melt me away as she stoked these new flames within me, so different from the cruel burn of a dragon’s fire. She slid off my kimono and the cold air should have provided some relief, but the hunger in her eyes as she devoured me with her gaze drew forth a heat that even a blizzard could not have cooled.

Her first touch of my breast provoked a moan that would shame me if I was still the girl by the river I was before. But with her, there was no shame in my passion, nothing sinful about my desires. It was the ultimate in truth that I moaned at her gentle fingers, the easy and unconscious affirmation of my feelings.

It was was the first moan, but not the last. Her fingers played me like a shamisen, provoking different notes and pitches as she found the sensitive places on my body, drawing out my voice until I was panting and quivering before her, and my passions dripped upon the carpet below.

When she drew back to admire her handiwork, I pounced, tearing her clothes off her with no regard for their condition, desperate to feel her, to see her, to know her completely. I was not disappointed- her beauty was only restrained by her fashionable outfits, not enhanced, and when she was bare before me I felt that I had never beheld such a wondrous sight, and my desire to inspect her with my hands and my tongue instead of merely my eyes intensified beyond the point of endurance. She gently teased me for my desperation but made no effort to stop me, allowing me to draw her into the bedroom, to push her backwards onto her spacious bed and press myself into her, feeling our heated flesh press together as I tasted the thin sheen of sweat upon her neck.

I was not quite so talented as her, but while I could not claim to be a master musician, I displayed enough skill to reduce her to short panted exclamations and needy whimpers, until she finally reached out a shaky hand to rest on my head and lead me downwards to admire the what lay between her spread legs. I have never understood the assumed desire of dragons to hoard valuables around them, but if all treasure was upon on the level as the one before me, perhaps I could see the inspiration to devote one’s life to its acquisition.

My Master was beautiful, flushed pink wet with dew that I knew was due to myself, something which only made the experience more lovely and the sight more attractive. I tentatively allowed myself a small taste, my tongue flickering out to brush against her outer lips for a mere moment, which was enough to elicit a low hiss from her and to fill my senses with the intoxicating taste and scent of her nectar. Ahh, and from there I was hooked.

What had started as her fantasy became mine as well, as my tongue returned to her with bolstered confidence and vigor, eagerly delving deep within her to gather as much of her ambrosia as I could drink, provoking from her first pleasured sighs, then deep moans, then the screams she had dreamt of, so passionate and arousing that my hand strayed to my own wetness to scratch the itch that my Master had made unbearable. Eventually her screams ran out, and even still I continued, lapping up the waves that flowed forth until finally her body tensed so powerfully that I could almost hear her muscles strain. The last of her breath gathered all at once for one last cry as I was flooded with her ultimate climax, my face splashed with her juices as my fingers brought me to join her in the mind wiping joy of sexual fulfillment.

She collapsed upon the bed even as my knees gave out, and lay there breathing heavily as I regained my ability to move and dragged myself to her side to curl against her. I idly watched the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to recover, her eyes on the ceiling with a haze that suggested she could barely even focus them.

It was not the end of the night. As much as I enjoyed my clumsy fingers as I explored her, it was nothing compared to the sensation that my Master showed me as the hours ticked on, until dawn found us lying upon soiled sheets, entwined with each other in deep slumber, our energy entirely spent on love.

Ahh, Anchin-sama… Even in recollection, when I am in that night, you never even come to my mind. I fear that I shall never truly stop loving you, and I am not so naive to think that my Master will be able to join me when her time as a human ends. But for while I am with her, I think that perhaps I will be able to live for a happier love than ours. One day, my monstrous nature may take hold, and I may slay her too, but… I do not believe that she will ever betray me to draw that darker fire from within me. I hope that her goodness is enough to hold my evil at bay.

And perhaps, if we win this war, I might choose to abandon my wish for the grail to create a world without lies. Perhaps instead I might spend my wish to stay by my Master’s side for the rest of the time she has left. Not as her Servant, but as something so much less, and yet so much more. Perhaps, if the grail can fulfill my selfish desire, I might make this wish upon on it.

_ Let me be Nico’s wife. _


End file.
